


Don't Go Home Without Me

by pixietwisk



Series: Something More [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixietwisk/pseuds/pixietwisk
Summary: Part 2 of Something MoreRonan and Adam adopt an actual human child, a baby Dreamer.  They learn to deal with all the things that go along with it."We need to get the fuck out of here, Parrish.  Kid's ready to gnaw her own hand off."Adam shot him an irritated glare.  "No, I didn't need any help, thanks for asking.  Just went through a nightmare of a conference call and took care of twelve pounds of paperwork.  Psychiatrist thinks you're an asshole, by the way, but can't deny the kid likes you, so you triumph again.""She didn't want the granola bar."The exasperated eye roll that followed was nearly audible."She's not Opal.  Any old stick won't cut it," Adam said derisively."I fucking know that, dickhead, but my resources are kinda limited here," Ronan sniped back."Did it not occur to you-" Adam began before he neatly cut himself off, closing his eyes and taking a breath.





	1. Found a Baby Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait until this was finished to post, but I decided to post as a WIP to motivate myself to get it done. You might need to read the previous fic in the series, "Something More" for context and original characters.

Henry quietly entered the farmhouse of the Barns without knocking.  He never knocked.  Over the years, he had developed an endlessly amusing game of catching Adam and Ronan unaware in nauseatingly cute couple moments on camera.  The pictures might appear on t-shirts, coffee mugs, cakes, jackets, pocket squares - anything that could be presented at the most embarrassing moment possible.  The most memorable had been hacking the kiss cam at a baseball game - all photos of Parrish/Lynch smooches.  That stunt had come with rather uncouth threats of violence and a month of banishment from the Barns, but it had been well worth it.

  
So, even though his mission today was of the utmost importance, he could not resist an opportunity to pick up quality material.  After his rather lengthy sojourn in dreamland, he had a lot to catch up on.

  
The view when he peeked in the doorway of the living room did not disappoint.  Adam was seated on one end of the couch, one tablet in his hand, another propped up on the end table, carefully reviewing and cross checking God knew what case file or reference.  He was shockingly casual in a ratty t-shirt and gym shorts, hair mussed as if he'd only recently woken up.  Given that Ronan snored face down across Adam's lap, one arm tucked behind Adam’s waist, the other threaded over one leg and under the other, wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, it was likely Henry had missed walking in on something considerably more intimate than this by less than an hour.  The vivid love bite decorating Ronan's shoulder was obviously fresh.  _ So savage _ ,  _ Parrish _ , Henry thought with amusement.

  
Adam was wearing an ear bud and was engrossed in his work, so Henry felt he could send in Robobee to snap the photo from a few angles with impunity.   
Once his accomplice was safely stowed in his pocket, Henry strode in to make a faux casual entrance.

  
"Heads up, bros!  Company calls.  No need to dress up, I look stylish enough for all three of us."

  
Ronan snorted awake and sat up so violently he knocked the tablet out of Adam's hand, which also ripped the earbud out of his ear.

  
"Shit," Adam said, scrabbling for his tablet, "I need to pause that!"

  
"Jesus shit Mary fuck cocksucking holy hell!"  Ronan thundered, leveling a furious finger at Henry accompanied by a glare that could probably set dry kindling ablaze.    
"I should keep my motherfucking shotgun on hand.  Maybe losing your fucking leg will teach you to knock, like a reasonable human fucking being."

  
Henry smiled shamelessly.  "What?  I thought we're all family here, bro.  Su casa es mi casa and vice versa."

  
Adam gave them both a classic eye roll and ponderous sigh before carefully marking his place on the tablet and rolling up the headphones.  "To what do we owe the pleasure, Cheng?"

  
"Big news," Henry replied, "But I perish for coffee.  Let us adjourn to the scullery."

  
"I fucking hate you," grumbled Ronan mildly enough that Henry counted it as a declaration of affection.

  
Henry looked askance at Ronan stomping into the kitchen behind him. "As much as I'm appreciating the view, perhaps you could put on some clothes?  That magnificent pelt you've cultivated seems downright unsanitary in a room where food is prepared," Henry said, gesturing at Ronan's chest.

  
"At least I don’t look like I never hit puberty every time I take off my shirt, Cheng," Ronan rebutted.

  
Henry scoffed.  "Are you flinging that insult at the love of your life as well?"

  
Adam, smirking, lifted up his shirt to reveal a sparse but relevant thatch of pale chest hair Henry would never aspire to.  

  
"Flashing me in front of your husband, Parrish?  Scandalous."

  
Adam snorted and headed to the coffee maker while Ronan disappeared to clothe himself.

  
When Ronan finally returned, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, he asked unpleasantly, "Now that you've made yourself  _ comfortable _ , why are you here?"

  
Henry sipped at his coffee and answered, "I happen to have a baby Dreamer for you, gents.  Still interested?"

  
Adam and Ronan's immediate and complete attention was actually a little more intense than Henry was comfortable with.

  
They all sat down at the kitchen table, heads close together over Henry’s tablet screen.  Henry brought up a set of photographs.  A little girl stared up at them, fear in her wide, hazel eyes.  Wild black curls erupted around her face.  Older photos of her looking more like a toddler showed her to be lively with mischief.

  
Henry's tone, when he spoke, was serious.  "Her name is Willow.  She's four years old - currently in a residential treatment facility in Florida.  They've tried placing her in two foster homes, but it hasn't worked out."

  
"Parents?" asked Ronan brusquely.

  
"Died a year ago.  They were at a campsite in the Everglades.  The newspaper said an animal got into their tent.  It got them but left the little girl with only a couple scratches.  She saw the whole thing."

  
Ronan's hand clenched into a fist.  He exchanged a long look with Adam.

  
"We want her," said Adam, voice low and serious.

  
Henry leaned back, looking between the two of them.  They both gazed intently at Willow's picture.

  
"She has some issues," Henry said delicately.

  
"No fucking shit, Cheng.  If your nightmare came to life and ate your fucking parents, you would too.  We don't care."

  
"She has chronic insomnia," Henry said.

  
Ronan threw his hands up and stalked away from the table, as if even coming up with an insult for that stupidity was too much to tolerate.

  
"And she doesn't talk anymore," Henry added quietly.

  
"She used to?" Adam asked.

  
"Neighbors said she was chatty - a normal kid.  But since the ... incident...she hasn't said anything."

  
Adam nodded solemnly as if this was perfectly sensible.   "What do we need to do?" Adam asked Henry, all business.

  
"We'll have to hack a few databases, move some things around.  I can do it with Robobee, but it will probably take a few days.  Can you look up the legal shit?  Florida law, all that?"

  
Adam nodded.  "I'll have it before you're done with the data.  We'll dream anything we can't get otherwise."

  
"Blah, blah, when can we fucking get her?  She needs us now," Ronan snapped, pacing furiously.

  
"It'll take a few weeks to get everything in order and set up an interview, man.  You can't just swoop in and kidnap her, Lynch.  They'll take her back," said Henry, getting a little nervous.  

  
Ronan had never punched him, but there had been enough near misses in the course of their friendship that Henry never lost his caution.  "A few _weeks_?" Ronan sputtered.

  
Now Adam rose, shouldered Ronan out of his pacing path, and stepped on one of his feet.

  
"We have to do it right," he said softly, having captured Ronan's full attention.  "Once she comes home with us, we can't let them have any excuse to take her away. Biggest stakes we've ever played for."

  
Ronan's expression was pained, but he nodded once.  He went back over to the table to contemplate Willow's picture.   "While you two are doing your technical shit, what am I supposed to do?  Bite my fucking fingernails?"

  
Adam grinned, joining Ronan at the table, laying one hand over his.

  
"I doubt she'll want to sleep in a dream den in the backyard.   She's gonna need a bedroom. We should put a kid's bed in the Dream Barn too, just in case she tends to dream stuff we can't handle in the house," Adam suggested practically.

  
Ronan was nodding, jiggling one leg.

  
"And if she doesn't talk, maybe we should brush up on our sign language.  We can sign when we talk to her.  Kids are real quick with that stuff."

  
In college, Adam had picked up a sign language class on a whim to fulfill a core requirement.  He usually regarded his partial deafness as little more than an annoying inconvenience, and it had surprised him to realize how much information he was missing in situations where he couldn’t quite hear.  All it took was a couple brief mentions about how interesting he found the class for Ronan to engage in highly focused self study, without even mentioning it to Adam.  The first time Ronan signed an offensive comment to him from across the room at an excessively boisterous Fox Way gathering, Adam was so moved he nearly cried. Underneath all the attitude, Ronan really was a magnificently romantic bastard. He  _ may _ have pounced on Ronan ten minutes later in a dark alcove on the back porch with aggressive kisses and a quick, furious handjob to express his appreciation.

They’d kept up on it casually in the intervening years, mostly between the two of them, but also within their extended friend group, particularly in overwhelming aural environments like Gansey fundraisers or horrible punk clubs.  Ronan was endlessly amused by treating it like a secret language in front of Declan.

Ronan looked at Adam and squeezed his hand.  "I'll get started," he replied quietly, aware that between work and the extra legal research, Adam wouldn't have much time for any of those tasks.

  
For a month, they all worked frantically.  Blue helped Ronan put together a bedroom for a little girl.  It was all sunrise pale rose and yellow, with wispy suggestions of clouds rendered in dream paint that made them glow faintly golden in the dark.  They wanted it to look nothing like the dark, heavy forest that had been the scene of her darkest fear.

Ronan barely slept at all, spending every free second watching ASL teaching videos.  He even engaged a tutor to come to the house three nights a week when Adam could be home to participate.  They signed everything they said, until it was starting to become a subconscious habit.   Adam and Henry researched, hacked, altered, and concocted to poise Ronan and Adam as the ideal adoption candidates, next on the list for Willow LaRoque.   Gansey made phone calls and pulled strings.  Declan, who had established a not insignificant sphere of influence himself, made other calls and pulled other strings.   


It felt like forever and no time at all before they were on a plane to Florida, ready to meet their own baby Dreamer.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet their little girl.

Inside the rental car, still cool from the just-extinguished blast of air conditioning, Ronan was electric with nerves.

"You look good," said Adam. "That stuff you dreamed up even covers the tattoo."

Ronan yanked at his tie a little. "Feels like a fucking job interview," he grumbled.

"You've never been on a job interview," Adam remanded. "Here's a hint. Don't swear and try not to threaten violence." Adam kissed him briefly.

"Do you think she'll like us?" Ronan asked.

Adam smiled. "No doubt about you. I have yet to see a small helpless creature that doesn't like you. It's only the grown up ones who can't seem to see the fucking marshmallow you keep in there," Adam said, poking his chest.

  
"Fuck off," Ronan replied, batting the hand away. The faintest hint of a blush tinted his cheeks.

The case manager took one look at the two of them and went pink. Adam put on his most charming courtroom smile. Ronan mimicked Declan's "vote for me" smile so flawlessly, Adam almost lost his composure. There was still something dangerous about him that Declan was able to quash completely, but it only made Ronan appear more attractive - at least in Adam's opinion. It wasn't putting Ms. Rutherford off either, if her awed countenance was any indication.

  
This interview was really a formality. They'd stacked the deck with enough of a soothing background of cash and recommendations from highly placed individuals that they'd have to come across as real monsters to be turned away. Still, Adam liked to feel he'd aced every test. It was a point of honor.

  
By the end of it, Ms. Rutherford was falling all over herself, lapsing into a nervous titter after nearly every sentence. They had both name-dropped more shamelessly than either of them had ever considered doing before.

  
The institution wanted them to spend a minimum of three days meeting with Willow and the child psychiatrist assigned to her before they could take her home. Adam and Ronan wanted it to be blatantly clear that they were important, well-connected, and carefully attentive to every detail of Willow's care and well-being.  Ms. Rutherford ("Oh, please, call me Anne," titter) showed them to a somewhat dingy room containing child-sized chairs, a little table, and some ratty toys to wait for Willow.

"Thank you, Anne," Ronan said, using Declan's smarmiest tone. The ridiculous woman actually went red. Adam had to turn away and bite a knuckle to keep from laughing.

Ronan immediately pulled off his jacket and tie, tossing them in a heap in the far corner. He got down on his belly and dumped a bin of blocks into the floor.

"Um..." said Adam, totally mystified, "what-"

"Get down here, Parrish," Ronan said.

  
Adam blinked at him.

"She's little, and has PTSD. You don't want to tower over her looking like a fucking lawyer when you meet her."

Adam could not help but marvel at Ronan's goddamn genius. Honestly, he had never understood why everyone always thought Adam was the smarter one in the relationship.

"I am a fucking lawyer," he said, just to be contrary, but he also tossed his coat and tie in the corner and hit the floor.

Ronan began to haphazardly stack blocks. Adam moved to straighten, but Ronan shook his head.

"For once in your life, Parrish, don't do it perfect."

Both men looked up at the sound of the door opening. Willow entered, tugged by the hand behind a friendly-looking woman, who started a bit at the two of them on the floor.

"Willow," she said, "this is Mr.-"

"No misters," interrupted Ronan, who had risen up enough to sign while he spoke. "I'm Ronan. That's Adam. Do you want to help us?"

He knocked over his rickety structure with a careless elbow and sighed. Adam, finally grasping the game, began awkwardly piling.

  
“It sure would be nice of you," Adam said and signed, looking hopefully at Willow. He had ceased any attempt to cover up his friendly Henrietta accent, letting the vowels stretch out and the consonants drop off softly.

Willow let go of the woman's hand, but did not move forward as she stared at them in consternation.

"No, Adam," Ronan complained, "if we put it like that-" the blocks collapsed again.

“I told you," Adam asked genially.

They cleared the space and began again, taking turns, doing a terrible job. Willow edged closer, watching them intently.

"Aw, man!" Adam exclaimed at the next crash.

Willow moved slowly closer until she sat daintily down beside them, still eyeing both of them suspiciously. The tremor in Adam's hands was real. Up close, the heavy bags under her eyes were prevalent against her mocha complexion, the terminally exhausted carriage to her shoulders terribly familiar.

Adam wanted to scoop her up into his arms and hold her. He wanted to promise to keep her safe. He wanted her to believe it. He could tell Ronan was tightly reining in his instinct to do the same. She truly needed both of them, together, in a way no one else ever had, not even Opal. A kaleidoscope of images flickered behind his vision too fast to give him anything distinct, but his entire being was shaken just as profoundly as it had been after he made his sacrifice to Cabeswater - a rush of absolute certainty. This was their daughter. There was no doubt in his heart she belonged with them.

Slowly, carefully, she reached to straighten out what Ronan had been stacking. He nodded and handed her the next one to place. They worked with her in silent cooperation for a while. When the block tower met her approval, she looked around for something else. A bin of crayons and some construction paper on the table caught her attention.

  
"Can we color with you?" Adam signed and asked her.

  
She considered for a moment, then nodded. They both scooted over on their knees, taking up a position on either side, softly asking her advice on which colors they should use.

  
Ronan rolled up his sleeves and Willow's gaze caught on his leather bands. There was an obviously new on the top, strung with three sparkling stones. Adam's breath caught when he realized the center was an opal, cunningly mounted on a metal bracket that the leather could be threaded through. The other two were smooth black and silver river stones from the starlight glade in Cabeswater, with little holes bored right through the centers. Ronan had not mentioned this at all, but Adam was not necessarily surprised.

After glancing at his wrist several times while Ronan made a rather stark and lovely sketch of the basic layout of the Barns, Willow poked one of the river stones gingerly.

"Do you like it?" Ronan asked her in the gentle tone he exclusively reserved for baby animals.  
Willow nodded, fingering the glint of silver in one of the stones.

Ronan unknotted it from his wrist and held it out to her. She froze, looking quickly at the woman who'd come in with her. Adam nodded vigorously behind Willow's back and the woman gave her own cautious nod of approval. For an instant, a quicksilver smile flashed over Willow's face as Ronan tied the bracelet around her wrist. It wrapped several times, giving her slim wrist the same aesthetic as Ronan's.

"That's hers," said Ronan to the woman, bright gaze piercing as only he could make it. "If it gets wet or chewed on or whatever, it'll be fine. No one should take that off her unless she wants it off, okay?" He was not making a request, even though he phrased it as such, and the woman clearly got the message.

Willow gazed at Ronan with something like adoration. She squeezed two of his fingers with her little hand. Adam was honestly a little jealous. He reminded himself that they'd only just met her, that he had years of bedtime stories and summer afternoons and pancake breakfasts to win her favor. Ronan had always been better at bursts of impulsive charm, while Adam was the champion of long and careful attention.

"So, what did you draw?" Ronan asked her.

She showed him her scribbly masterpiece. Ronan viewed it seriously and said, "Yes," in the same manner he conversed with Chainsaw. He showed her his drawing. Somehow, with a minimal number of lines, he managed to show that the Barns was a large property, littered with fences and fields, surrounded by trees, and that it somehow felt soft.

"That's where we live," Ronan said, matter-of-fact. "Chickens are over here, the cows switch between there and there, we have squash growing here-" as he pointed out each thing, Adam could almost see Willow imagining it. The possessive pride in Ronan's voice was unmistakable.

  
"Here," said Ronan, handing it to her, "you look at it and ask me more tomorrow."

Willow took the paper happily, but then compressed her lips, looking down at the table. Adam touched the tip of one finger to the top of her hand.

"You can just point to what you want to know," said Adam, "and we'll bring some photos tomorrow too. We can make it a game. You seem like a real smart girl. We'll figure it out."

  
For the first time that afternoon, she looked Adam directly in the eye. She might be little, but there was already a whole world of want locked inside her. He and Ronan had agreed to be delicate about the subject with her, but he refused to treat her like a baby- like she wouldn't understand.

"You know we want to bring you home with us, right?"

Slowly, hesitantly, Willow nodded.

"We want to be your family. If you never talk again, that's fine. The rest of our family talks plenty already. If you don't sleep, that's fine too. Neither does Ronan. You two can watch TV all night and take naps when you feel like it."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Her head turned to Ronan for confirmation. He nodded casually, as if her silence and sleeplessness were no big deal.

"You just think about it,” Adam continued. “We'll come see you again tomorrow and the day after that. We'll keep coming back as long as we need to."

The babysitter or whatever she was cleared her throat and called to Willow with her hand outstretched. Willow clutched her picture and slid out of the chair. Before she left the room, she turned and gazed at them both, play-rumpled and kneeling at the table, and gave a tiny wave, daring to grin just a little. They waved back.  As soon as the door closed, Ronan's head sunk down on the table between his elbows. Adam stroked his exposed forearm with a thumb.

  
"You're amazing, you know that?" Adam said. "I would have scared her half to death, but you knew just what to do."

"I didn't think-" Ronan started, then paused to reorder his thoughts. "I knew I wanted to help her, that she needs us, but I didn't know how bad I would want to be her...her dad. You know? Like fate or some shit. The second she sat down."

"I know," Adam agreed. "I feel the same. I hate the idea of leaving her here even one more minute," he sighed, shaking himself. "I think I need a break before we have to impress the shrink, just to, like, get it together."

"Yeah," Ronan said. "What time is it?"

Adam glanced down at his watch. "We have about 20 minutes."  
"Let's go," said Ronan, springing into action.

After stalking the grounds, long-legged and swift, they righted themselves to meet with the psychiatrist.

Adam had to slide his foot just over the top of Ronan's as a reminder not five minutes in. This man was an arrogant blowhard, insistent on warning them about how damaged Willow was, that she would still require years of therapy. He waffled about the challenges of raising special needs children, that two families with experience raising special needs children were unable to care for her. After thirty minutes, Adam was surprised the man had not melted beneath the heat of Ronan's stare. He was struggling not to grind his own teeth, but he summoned all of his considerable patience and maintained at least a blank expression.

  
"We’ve engaged a highly respected child psychologist to help us work with her. In fact,” Adam stood, sauntered over to the bookshelf, and tapped two well-thumbed volumes, “these are her books right here.”

  
Adam delighted at the way Dr. Blowhard’s eyes widened with disbelief, followed by the sour expression that came with knowing he was outclassed. “We feel confident we can handle it," Adam said, tone dripping with cool disdain. Ronan’s malicious smirk felt like a reward.

  
They were saved from what promised to be a sadly inadequate rebuttal from the good doctor by the timid knock of Ms. Rutherford, ready to guide them out of the institution.  
"Anne," Ronan began, smoothly touching her elbow, all Declan charm, "do you think we could get another minute with Willow before we go? Just to say good-bye?"

She slowed her business-like clip, hesitating.

"Mr. Lynch,"

"Ronan," he interjected, a hint of a smile around his mouth.

"Ronan," she said, going a little pink again - Adam struggled not to roll his eyes. Ronan had now taken one of her chubby hands in between his. "We usually keep interaction with the children to the meeting room."

  
Adam swooped in beside Ronan, all innocent wide blue eyes.

  
"We just .... well, we already miss her. If we could just peek in, give her a little wave, you know," he gave her what he hoped was a guileless, puppy-dog look. He was picturing how Matthew did it. "It would only take a minute."

  
The woman's eyes darted back and forth between them. Adam could see the moment she caved.

"Um...I suppose...Um... one minute couldn't hurt. (Titter) She'll probably be outside."

  
The enclosed yard contained an aging play structure, a swing set, and an overgrown field of scrubby grass. A dozen or so children of various ages yelled at one another while they scrambled all over everything. Willow was difficult to spot at first. She lay in the grass on her back, looking up at the scudding clouds, testing the texture of one of the river stones against her teeth. The little smile that crept onto Ronan's mouth was a beautiful thing, loose and contented.

  
Heedless of his expensive suit, Ronan strode over near her and tossed himself in the grass at her feet. Startled, she sat up and stared at him as if he was an apparition.  
"Uh," Ms. Rutherford stammered, "Mr.-uh-Ronan-"

"I'll get him," Adam said, patting her shoulder, as if he was offering to chase down a pet.

  
"Come down, Adam," Ronan ordered and signed as he neared, "Willow has a good spot over here."

Adam crouched down next to Willow. "Do you think he's weird?" he asked conspiratorially.

Ronan's head lifted just enough to see her answer. Willow shook her head vigorously.

"Well I do," Adam said with a grin.

  
He shoved at one of Ronan's shoes. The shoe shoved back. A very small hand shoved tentatively at the same shoe. The shoe shoved very lightly back.

"They're telling us we have to go for the day," Adam continued casually, signing all the while, "but we'll be back tomorrow." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "We'll miss you."  
The tip of Ronan's shoe tapped her knee twice. Ms. Rutherford was shuffling cautiously over to them, trying to figure out what to say to get rid of them.

"I'm supposed to be convincing you to behave," Adam stage-whispered to Ronan.

  
"Pshhh," Ronan grunted, "never."

  
Willow looked back and forth between the two of them like she'd never seen anything like them. Ronan sat up and revealed a tiny, violently purple daisy, as if he'd just plucked it from the grass.

"You want to keep this for me?" he asked Willow.

She held out a hand, but he tucked it casually into her hair. "See you tomorrow, kid."

  
They glanced back to see her carefully sifting through the grass, looking for another flower.

  
Safely behind the closed door of the rental car, watching Ronan pull off the coat and tie like they were lined with acid, Adam asked "Just how many dream things do you have tucked in your pockets?"

The glance Ronan cut at him was sharp before he got to work stripping off the dress shirt in favor of the tee he had stuffed in the glove box.

"Ah," he sighed in satisfaction, "Fucking monkey suit. Hotter than Lucifer's nutsack. Turn on the A/C."

Ronan snatched the keys dangling from Adam's fingers, jammed them in the ignition, and turned the car on.

Adam busied himself with his phone, then typed an address into the car's navigation system before pulling out of the parking space.

"Do we really have to sit through two more days with Dr. Shitstack?"

Adam frowned. "Depends. You think she'll be ready to go tomorrow?"

"I don't know, man. I hope so. That asshole is supposed to be helping her? I don't want that fuckweasel anywhere near her."

Adam grunted in agreement. Willow didn't need some know-it-all academic telling her she was broken. She needed Adam and Ronan to show her there was no such thing.  
"We can call Dr. Penhurst and get some advice. There has to be a way to speed this along," Adam said.

"I'll do it," Ronan offered, pulling out his phone.

A condition of adopting a child suffering from severe PTSD was mandatory therapy. After a half dozen interviews and office visits, they'd secured a specialist in D.C. who was both well-respected and tolerable to both Ronan and Adam. Following a phone call from Secretary of Education Gansey, her schedule had miraculously opened up to accommodate them.

  
Ronan also called both Declan and Gansey on conference to fill them in on the day’s progress. Dr. Blowhard would be getting a persuasive set of calls this afternoon. Obligations complete, he tossed his phone into the disaster of dress clothes crumpled in the back seat.

"Where the fuck are we going, loser?" Ronan asked.

  
"To blow off steam," Adam replied, pulling into the parking lot of a sports park.

  
They were both wound up and firing, having only partially completed what they had come for. Neither of them dealt particularly well with waiting. At home, there was always some kind of physical work to be done or projects to complete that would take the edge off. Here, they'd have to make do. If they went straight back to the hotel, they'd both be bored and picking a fight inside of an hour.

  
While Ronan shamelessly stripped out of his suit pants and pulled on a worn pair of jeans beside the car in the middle of the parking lot, Adam took a backpack into the bathroom to change.

Ronan raised his eyebrows at Adam in silent query when he emerged.

  
"Batting cages," he answered.

  
"Most hits?" asked Ronan.

"Yeah," said Adam, "Three rounds each."

“Should have brought a racquet,” Ronan grumbled.

  
“Please,” Adam replied dryly, “You’d challenge some local kid after you wiped the court with me and get us banned from the park because you made ‘em cry.”

  
A cruel smirk lit Ronan’s features.

  
“Grow a fucking pair, kid,” Adam sneered in a passable imitation.

  
Ronan barked a short laugh and flung an arm over Adam’s shoulders.

  
“Come on, Parrish. Let’s hit some fucking dingers.”

  
Being highly competitive people who shared a bank account, they had developed an alternative forfeiture system over the years. Loser always owed the winner a forfeit, and there were levels and expiration periods depending on the type of contest. This one, a mild physical test intended to help manage mutual anxiety, would contain a low-level forfeiture, probably in the bedroom later. Adam rolled his shoulders. Ronan would beat him in a contest of pure strength, but they were well matched in a battle of accuracy. Adam mirrored Ronan's shark smile. Beating him in any contest was always deeply satisfying, and Adam was in no mood to lose.

Later that night, in the darkness of the hotel room, after Ronan had delivered a forfeit he'd enjoyed almost as much as Adam, he said, "If we can get her out, we'll have a kid tomorrow night."

"Yeah," agreed Adam, rhythmically knocking a foot against Ronan's.

"It feels totally different than Opal, you know?" said Ronan, after a long pause.

  
"Very," Adam replied, relieved he wasn't the only one. "She's not a half-wild dream thing that can basically take care of herself. She's so little, not much bigger than Seamus. It's so much more."

"Right. And she's a dreamer, but she won’t know. Too young," Ronan added.

  
"I'm nervous, but I'm excited," Adam said, "Or not exactly excited, but just...ready. I feel ready. I wasn't really sure I ever could be, but, yeah. I am. We met our daughter today." There was wonder in his voice.

He heard Ronan turn toward him, felt the familiar comfort of that warm, callused hand on his belly.

"Our daughter," Ronan echoed.

  
The both stared wakeful, into the promise of the hazy future, for a long while.


	3. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spring Willow from the institution.

If possible, day two was even more intense than day one.  Before they even entered the building, Ronan was ready to climb out of his own skin.  He was eternally grateful neither of his brothers would ever witness him emulating Declan's butter smooth charm, but he considered this an emergency situation - no room for moral high ground.  It was still disgusting.  He'd need to do something really vulgar within the next 24 hours, just to feel normal again.  

  
Flustering that idiotic case worker had been vaguely amusing the day before, but after the lightning bolt of rightness had hit him upon meeting Willow, every second of this political dance chaffed unbearably.  

  
Gansey had reported the results of yesterday's phone reconnaissance.  All the staff had been impressed by them and would probably be willing to allow them to leave with Willow that day as long as the fucking shitstack psychiatrist agreed early departure wouldn't be traumatizing to her.  They would be personally observed by that asshole during their interaction time.  While that meant Ronan probably could not get away with slipping her any more dream things, he was reasonably confident the pictures of home would be enough to make her want to go.  

  
He'd been a little nervous when Adam had gone rogue yesterday and laid everything out for her point blank, like she was a lot older than four, but dammit if that fucker hadn't been right.  Adam thought he was useless with kids, even after all these years, but their nephews and even Gansey's toddlers were awed by his quiet confidence.  Declan had often grumbled about the fact that William would rush to comply with Adam's mere suggestion after stubbornly refusing to do the same following hours of pleas, threats, and demands from both Declan and Sarah.  

  
A pinch to Ronan's forearm, the third of the interview, reminded him he was supposed to be smart and charming for - he glanced at the clock on the wall - another twelve minutes.  He suppressed a sigh and plastered the award-winning smile he'd hijacked from Declan back on his face.  That dumbshit woman giggled.  

  
Finally, they made their way down the hall to the room where they had met Willow the day before.  Ronan adjusted the strap on the messenger bag he carried, containing today's lure for Willow.  Ronan and Blue had instantly dismissed Adam's suggestion that they upload photos of the Barns and their family onto his tablet to show Willow.  There was something more tangible about the tactile experience of flipping through a book.  Ronan selected all the photos as well as bits of plants and fabrics particular to the Barns, while Blue helped create the layout.  The result was a thick, oversized work of art even Adam had paged through lovingly, fingertips lingering over the edges of the pages.

  
Adam's entire being lit up when they spotted Willow treading cautiously down the hall toward them behind Dr. Shitstack, Ronan's sketch from the day before clutched in her hand.  A real smile, the one that Ronan would enact mayhem and murder for, broke over Adam's face like the dawn.  The incessant jabbering of the case worker ceased abruptly.  Ronan spared an amused glance for the dumbstruck woman before turning his attention to Willow.  Upon noticing them, her apathetic trudge instantly transformed into something nimbler, mostly on tiptoe, reminding Ronan of Opal's hoofed gait.  She skipped a little ahead of the psychiatrist, and Ronan had to fight back a protective snarl when the man set a restraining hand on her shoulder.

With what Ronan considered incredible self-control, Adam crouched down, ignoring the psychiatrist completely, and greeted her.

"Hi, Willow," he said and signed, "you sure look pretty today."

  
Again, Adam allowed his Henrietta accent to color his words invitingly. After years in an Ivy League school and even more at a prestigious law school, Adam could perfectly mimic Northeastern moneyed privilege.  Knowing Ronan fucking hated it meant the fake accent was only used when Adam was being shitty, or when he was trying to woo or impress people he didn’t think would accept him.  Though he understood Adam’s instinctive urge to flatten these institutional zombies with every weapon in his arsenal, the voice had been irritating him like gravel in his shoe.  Hearing him drop it to give their little girl his truest self flooded Ronan with an embarrassing rush of gooey affection.  And he wasn’t the only one.

Willow grinned, wriggled out from Dr. Shitstack's grip, and pranced over to Adam.  After a second's hesitation, she reached out to squeeze two of  his fingers affectionately.  That fucking smile again, Jesus.  How was it possible that everyone within viewing distance had not hacked out their own hearts to offer to him?

  
Not to be ignored, Ronan crouched down next to Adam and poked her gently in the ribs.  "Hey, kiddo."

  
Her lips turned up a bit more and a little dimple appeared on her left cheek.  What dipshits those other families had been to give her up.  Proudly, she thrust her leather-clad wrist toward him, prompting an approving nod.

  
"Looks good on you."

  
Willow trotted into the meeting room, darting a look over her shoulder to ensure they followed.  Seated at the same little table where they'd colored yesterday, Willow pointed enthusiastically at different parts of the sketch.  While Adam explained each area, Ronan drew out the photo book.  It began with photos of the property and some of the animals.

  
"That's Chainsaw," Ronan said, referring to the two-page spread of artistic close-ups.  They encouraged her to stroke the glossy feather attached to the page.  "She's sort of a pet. Or, like, a friend.  Anyway, she's excited to meet you."

  
Willow's expression was a little trepedatious.

  
"Did you know ravens are the smartest birds?" Adam added.  "She can use tools, just like people.  And she has a special sound to call Ronan.  It sounds like this - _Kerah_."  Ronan was astonished by the accuracy of Adam's raven imitation.  "She might give you a name too,” Adam continued.

Willow pointed at Chainsaw and then Adam.  "Oh, yeah, I guess," he said.

“She calls him _krek-a-krek_ ," Ronan said, "but only when she's bossing him around."

  
Adam sighed.  "She thinks she knows everything."

  
"Your pet is a carrion bird?" Dr. Shitstack blurted incredulously.

  
Ronan narrowed his eyes, about to spit a nasty retort at the man, but Adam beat him to it.  "We live on a farm," he said reasonably.  "There are lots of animals.  It's not really that different than having a cat."

  
It was clear the good doctor would have liked to argue, but clamped down, making a note on his file.

  
As they moved on, pictures of friends and family emerged.  The first one of Opal stopped Willow short.  Opal held a pair of fox kits on her lap beside the tangled roots of an enormous tree, legs tucked under a flouncy gingham skirt.  The picture had been taken five years previous, just before Opal had departed with the Tree Light Foundation.  Willow touched the photo with a trembling hand.

  
"That's Opal," Adam supplied, "our grown up daughter."

  
The psychiatrist cleared his throat.  This time when Adam addressed him, it was cool and dismissive.  God, Ronan adored him.

  
"It's all in our files, which I'm sure you've carefully reviewed, _Doctor_ ," he said, making _Doctor_ sound like _you fucking idiot_ .  "We adopted a little girl several years ago.  She's a botanist now.  Travels a lot.  I'm certain that any further questions you have about our suitability or experience would be better addressed in a more private discussion.  We'd like to give Willow our _full_ attention."

  
Shitstack shut up again, neck flushing unattractively.  Willow was still frowning at Opal's picture, poking at the skirt where it covered her legs.

  
"She looks like someone you'd see in a dream, doesn't she?" Ronan asked slyly.

  
Slowly, Willow turned her frown to him, leaving her hand on Opal's picture.

  
"Animals love her, for some fu-uh-reason.  With all the time she spends in the forest, you'd think she had hooves instead of feet."

Willow stared at Ronan, wide-eyed.  He knew exactly what she was asking, and nodded slowly at her, not breaking her gaze.  She whipped her head around to Adam for confirmation.

  
"Mhmm," he agreed, "Our whole family says she's half forest creature. The Barns seems like something out of a dream too.  It feels like home, even if you've never been there before."  

  
Willow had been carefully watching his hands while he spoke.  She clumsily mimicked the sign for "home," swiping her hand over her cheek, then pointed at his hands.

  
"It's hand talk - means the same as the words," Adam said.

  
She tried the "home" sign again, looking expectantly at Adam.  "Yes," he said, "home."

  
He made the sign, then shaped her hand correctly and guided her through it again.  "We can teach you.  There's hand talk for anything you want to say."

  
Her eyes took on a wet shimmer.  Ronan gently touched her chin and turned her toward him. "What do you think?  Ready to get out of this place?  Come home to the Barns?”  She nodded vigorously and made the home sign again.  Ronan smiled warmly, just for her.

"Er, Mr. Lynch," interrupted Dr. Shitstack, "It would be better not to over-excite her.  I still need to complete my evaluation-"

  
Ronan held his arms out to Willow.  She wrapped her slender arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her up as he stood.  Her slight weight settled against his hip, in the crook of his arm, as if she'd always been there.

"You wanna show me where your stuff is?" he asked Willow, who nodded and pointed the direction.

  
Ronan barely registered Adam approaching the stuttering psychiatrist. At this point, Adam could finish all the slick talk and details.  Ronan was done fucking around.  Willow was theirs.  After packing her pitiful array of possessions (he was going to dream her so many fucking toys) they went outside in the yard to play while Adam handled adult shit.

  
It took nearly two hours for Adam to emerge, wearied, from the building.  Willow had begun to gnaw moodily on her bracelet as she perched on the swing, obviously hungry but disinterested in Ronan's only emergency food stash - a slightly crumpled granola bar.

  
"We need to get the fuck out of here, Parrish.  Kid's ready to gnaw her own hand off."

  
Adam shot him an irritated glare.  "No, I didn't need any help, thanks for asking.  Just went through a nightmare of a conference call and took care of twelve pounds of paperwork.  Psychiatrist thinks you're an asshole, by the way, but can't deny the kid likes you, so you triumph again."

  
"She didn't want the granola bar."

The exasperated eye roll that followed was nearly audible.  "She's not Opal.  Any old stick won't cut it," Adam said derisively.

"I fucking know that, dickhead, but my resources are kinda limited here," Ronan sniped back.

"Did it not occur to you-" Adam began before he neatly cut himself off, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

  
In a move that other people might consider counterintuitive in a fight, Adam ducked down to press his forehead into Ronan's shoulder, which automatically brought Ronan's hand to the back of his neck.  

Swiftly invading one another's personal space usually quashed this type of little tiff.

  
"Okay," Adam restarted, head still down, "you need to go in there with your one-woman fan club and sign a bunch of shit.  I read through it all - it's fine.  I will find the kitchen or cafeteria or whatever this hellhole has to refuel our child.  We will meet you at the car in about an hour.  Will that work?"

  
Ronan planted a soft kiss in Adam's hair.

  
"Yes," he answered ruefully.  "Thanks for handling all the boring bullshit, like you always do.  I'm going."

  
After completing the pile of paperwork, Ronan intercepted his little family near the exit doors.  Adam carried Willow, who was slumped tiredly against his shoulder, nearly asleep.  One hand slowly rubbed her back.  Her eyelashes fluttered and she burrowed into Adam's shirt, arms tucked underneath her.  

  
"Did she eat?"

  
"A little," Adam supplied as they headed into the parking lot.  "I think she might be even pickier than you.  I didn't believe it was possible."

Ronan snorted disdainfully.  "It's called having tastebuds, Parrish."

By the time they reached the car, she'd gone completely limp.  Adam continued to gently rub her back.  By wordless agreement, they elected to lean against the car in the shade for a bit rather than immediately jostle her awake buckling her into the booster seat.  Ronan was intimately familiar with the unique brand of exhaustion that came with relentless insomnia.  If she was able to nap, they were both inclined to let her, at least for a little while.

  
"We should stick to the original schedule," Adam said, "and fly home tomorrow.  I think trying to switch flights and getting home at midnight is too much for her."

  
Ronan nodded reluctantly.  He wanted nothing more than to leave this sweaty armpit of a state to get back to his own sweaty armpit of a state, but the fucking kid was wrecked.  Ronan took advantage of the down time to change out of his hated formal wear, using the sleeve of his crisp button-down to scrub the dream-concealer off the back of his neck.

  
Adam raised a sardonic brow at him.  "Anne's probably peeping at you out the window right now," he teased.

Ronan took his time donning his t-shirt, admittedly more interested in Adam's appreciative observation than any hypothetical voyerism.  He stripped off his pants and tossed them into the open trunk, then bent over ridiculously far to grab his jeans.

  
"Think she fainted?" Ronan asked as he wriggled into them.

Adam laughed quietly, struggling not to jiggle Willow too much.  "I'm sure the ambulance will be pulling in any minute.  I know I'm swooning."

Ronan noted the sheen of perspiration forming under the fringe of Adam's hair.  It was way too fucking hot and humid for this buttoned-up bullshit.  He made a gimme motion to take Willow so Adam could at least get out of his long-sleeved shirt.  Adam expertly transitioned the slumbering little girl to Ronan, a move they had perfected with a heavier and taller satyr when they were barely out of high school.

  
They lingered in silence a while longer, sweating in the afternoon humidity and listening to the rattle of cicadas in the trees.

"So," Adam broached, "what are we going to do with her the rest of the day?"

Ronan opened his mouth, then shut it again.  He hadn't really thought about the long stretch of afternoon and evening hours ahead, nor the acre of morning hours tomorrow.  Opal had never needed to be entertained as long as she could be outside.  Babysitting of their nephews usually took place at the Barns, where the extensive grounds and piles of old toys or access to video games took care of the problem, or at Declan's house, which was full of the boys' shit.  They had an iPad Sarah had loaded up with age-appropriate apps, but Ronan preferred to save that for the airport and the plane.  

Willow's meager possessions barely filled a single duffle, and her toys were limited to a couple manky stuffed animals.  A long look passed between them.  It was laden with stubborn agreement that they would not call anyone they knew to ask what they were supposed to actually _do_ with their child, having liberated her from confinement.  Hell no.  They could figure this out.

  
Adam began furiously googling on his phone while Ronan held Willow.  They held whispered negotiation until a plan was in place.  The staff of the institute probably thought they were fucking insane, standing in the parking lot for 90 minutes, but whatever.

  
Willow did wake up when Ronan eased her into the booster seat, panicked and thrashing.  There was something disturbing about seeing that kind of visceral terror enacted in total silence.  It was scarier than your average tantrum, because somewhere in the middle of her fear she had a core of tight clenched control.

Ronan didn't know whether to touch her or back away, talk to her or stay quiet, pull her out of the car or leave her in it.  He was frozen in terrified ineptitude, a few inches from Willow.  It struck him hard - this wasn't Opal to innately understand a sharp retort as concern, or a baby bunny he could comfort with brusque confidence.  She was a stranger and a little girl and his responsibility and he had no fucking idea what to do.

Adam did though.  Smoothly, he slid in next to her, placing one hand firmly on her shoulder, just the same way he did when he woke Ronan from a dream going downhill.

  
"Willow, it's okay," he said, not loudly but not without authority.  This was his magician voice - calm, fathomless, sure.  "You're safe."

Instantly, the fight went out of her little body, but a new kind of tension seized her, embarrassment or some other flavor of fear.  Adam ignored it, petting her shoulder with a thumb.

  
"We're gonna go to the park, maybe feed the ducks?  What do you think?"  he asked casually, as if nothing had happened.

  
Breaths still coming fast, she nodded vigorously, then pointed her face past him out the window.

  
"All right, then," Adam said, pulling himself out of the backseat and gently shutting the door.

  
Ronan, a tumultuous blend of conflicting emotion, picked up a dropped seed pod from the ground and hurled it as hard as he could.  He bent down for another, but froze at Adam's sharp "Lynch."

All prepared to glare and throw the next one at Adam's head, he stood up.  The fierce flick of Adam's eyes to the institute and the back of the car, coupled with a crisp "not here," was enough to drop the seed pod from his hand and leave him flushed but quiet in the passenger seat.  
Fuck.  This parent shit was going to be a lot harder than he'd expected.

  
Opal knew him better than anyone and never misinterpreted his snits.  He was allowed to be a moody shit in front of his nephews and Gansey’s kids - he was _expected_ to be a moody shit.  This was a whole new ballgame.  As a master of swift adaptation, Adam had the advantage. Suddenly his fond contemplation of the future turned a little uncertain.  Ronan fucking hated being uncertain.

The afternoon went downhill from there.  The park entertained her for all of twenty minutes until a duck nipped Willow's hand and she scrabbled up Ronan until she was clinging to his head in mute terror.  No amount of coaxing could convince her to allow them to set her back on the ground.

  
It took another 30 minutes of showing her pictures of food on Adam's phone to figure out that she would tolerate pizza for dinner, and even longer to decide where to go, during which she used Ronan as a makeshift jungle gym.  Ordinarily that would have been okay - roughhousing was well within his wheelhouse - but he hadn't slept much the night before, hadn't eaten all day, and was already starting to feel way the fuck out of his depth.

By the time they got back in the car, Ronan felt bruised and exhausted.  Holy hell, it wasn’t even dark yet.

Dinner was torturously slow, with Willow getting distracted with crayons or shredding her napkin to confetti or experimenting with her straw after every tiny bite.  Being possessed of a rather short attention span himself, Ronan earned a number of increasingly dark scowls from a sighing, teeth-grinding husband anytime his impromptu cutlery tune or sugar packet tower inspired Willow to join him.

The hotel felt more like a sanctuary than a Holiday Inn had any right to.  In a truly remarkable display of selfish cowardice, Ronan bolted for the gym with his headphones within 10 minutes of arrival, escaping both the unknown temperament of the little girl and the familiar pinched disapproval of Adam Parrish.  No one had to know he spent the first half hour loitering (not hiding) crouched next to the ice machine.  Nor would he confess to picking up a call from Blue on the first ring while exploring (not hiding on) the roof after his workout.

“Maggot,” Ronan said mildly.

“Shitbag,” she replied, just as casual.

“He fucking send you after me?” Ronan asked, a little abrasive.  

“Guilty conscience?” she asked sweetly.

Adam hadn’t sent him so much as one text in the nearly 3 hours he’d been gone.  Which meant every minute of his little walkabout was digging him deeper in the shit hole.  He could already feel the icy wind moving across his balls.

“Can’t run, can’t hide, Lynch.  Even when you’re in Florida.  I’ve got eyes everywhere.”

Ronan snorted.  “Fuck off.  I needed a break.  Did he tattle to Gansey the second I walked out the door?”

Blue sighed noisily, “God, you’re such a baby sometimes.”

She ignored Ronan’s indignant sputter.

“Sarah called him to ask how things went today since no one _heard_ anything from you uncommunicative bastards, and you know how the two of them get when they get going about you or Declan.”

Ronan groaned, slumping against the concrete wall behind him.  Adam never acted like a gossipy girl unless he started shitalking with Sarah, especially if booze was involved. The superior, smug looks they would give him and Declan for days after were equally irritating to both brothers.  

“So,” continued Blue, obviously annoyed with the endless telenovela that was their lives, “Declan heard Sarah talking and got all _Declan_ about you and he called Gansey and Gansey called Adam.  As we speak, your kid is glued to a very loud episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse while Adam whispers on the phone in the bathroom.  It’s a shitshow.”

“Mmph,” Ronan grunted helplessly.

“All right, you emotionally stunted dipshit, what’s going on with you?”

Though he would never ever admit it to her, sometimes it was easier to talk to Blue than anyone else.  She was relentless enough to push through his aversion to talking about things in general and tough enough to handle the resulting shrapnel without taking any wounds.  She was also really good at keeping shit to herself that wasn’t anyone else’s business.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he admitted.

“Welcome to parenthood,” she said dryly.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Oh no you’re not.  We’re getting this done.  The kids are finally asleep and I want to enjoy my evening without any more Parrish-Lynch drama.”

“You’re such an asshole, Sargent.”

“Takes one to know one.  Now talk.”

Ronan groaned, rubbed a hand vigorously over his face and mumbled, “She’s just so...I don’t know how to be around a scared little kid.  I fucked up everything I did with her today.”

Blue stayed quiet, waiting for him to go on.  He kept expecting her to tell him he was wrong or being overly dramatic, but she didn’t.

“I just thought...I thought it would be easy, no big deal.  Like, _my_ mom was always happy, always cool, no matter what we did.  And fucking Adam...he’s taking it all in stride.  All _her_ weird crap is fine, he’s just pissed at _me_.  I’ve been a dad for half a day and I’m already shit at it.”

“That’s it, huh?” Blue asked flatly, not sounding at all sympathetic.  For a second he considered hanging up on her out of spite.

“You gonna give her back, then?  Tell the institute they made a mistake?  You can’t do it?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.  “She’s my daughter.  I’m not going to throw her away like those other assholes.”

“I thought you said you were a shitty dad.”

“I can get better!  It’s only the first day.”

He could practically see the smirk on her face once he realized what just came out of his mouth.  The self-satisfied huff of breath in his ear confirmed it.

“I fucking hate you,” he growled.  

Blue laughed brightly.  “Sometimes it’s too easy.”

“Thank God I’m gay,” Ronan sighed.  “Adam doesn’t pull this mind game shit.”

“Adam’s freaking out just as much as you, stupid.”

“Bullshit.”

“Which one of us has been listening to his therapy session for the last hour, hmm?” Blue drawled with sarcasm.  “He interviews traumatized kids for trial for a living, Ronan.  He knows  how to deal with a meltdown, but he’s just as insecure as you right now, so quit being a brat and go help him.”

And fuck if he didn’t feel better.  That hard-ass pipsqueak was sort of a genius.

“Bossy little shitbird,” he said fondly.

“Stubborn whining asshat,” she cooed.

“Coming to meet the kid next week?”

“Yeah, definitely.  Have your better half text me.”

The panic flared again a little as he contemplated the hotel room door, but he girded his loins and entered confidently.  Adam was right there in the little hallway, yanking him into the bathroom and shutting the door before he could even open his mouth.  Adam’s glower said, _where the fuck have you been_ , but the fingertips that snuck under the hem of his shirt where he’d pulled on it said, _I need you with me right now_ , so he wasn’t too worried.  If he’d been really angry, Adam could make two feet of space between them in the cramped bathroom feel like two miles, but he stayed unnecessarily close.  Ronan placed a hand on Adam’s hip, while Adam flattened his palm against Ronan’s side.  As far as they were both concerned, the fight was pretty much over.

“Kid?” asked Ronan.

“Sleeping,” Adam answered.

Disney Junior was still blaring loud enough for Ronan to crisply hear the dialogue through the door.

“She deaf too?”

“Dick,” Adam sighed, leaning in to rest his chin on Ronan’s shoulder and slide both hands halfway up Ronan’s tattoo under his shirt.  There was a thorny vine twisting over two of his vertebrae Adam was particularly taken with.

Ronan’s body slumped with relief as he tucked his hands into Adam’s back pockets.

“It’s going to get better,” Adam muttered into his shirt.

“We need to get her home.”

“Mmhmm,” Adam agreed. “I don’t know if she’ll wake up if I turn off the TV,” he added anxiously.

Ronan nodded, turning his face into Adam’s hair to better surround himself with his comforting scent.

“Think we can turn it down a little?  You know, just enough to keep low-flying aircraft from hearing it?”

A vaguely irritated hum was the only response.  Adam sniffed audibly.

“You actually did go to the gym?” He asked.

“S’where I said I was going,” Ronan said.  “I was about to take a shower.  If the kid is really knocked out…”

“Mmmmm,” Adam hummed speculatively, nosing Ronan’s throat, “We’d have to be real quiet.  Like coat closet at a fundraiser quiet.”

Ronan gripped Adam’s ass a little more firmly.  “I can do quiet,” he said, heart rate picking up a little.

“I’m serious,”Adam said, picking up his head to gaze at Ronan with a challenge in his eyes.  “I do _not_ want to give her _the talk_ the first fucking day.”

“We’ll be Princeton library stacks quiet.”

Adam’s answering smirk was as sexy as it was smug.  “Bathroom at Declan’s dinner party quiet?”

Ronan kissed him quite thoroughly.  “ _Downstairs_ bathroom quiet.”

“Well?” Adam said, “is there a reason you’re still wearing pants?”


End file.
